The Last Great War
by ChibiPotatoes
Summary: Lieutenant John Anderson has served his time in battle and was about to enjoy a quiet vacation, but duty always calls at moments no one wants them to...
1. Prologue: The Bear Awoken

**Prologue: The Bear Awoken**

* * *

The end of the World War II brought with it the idea of a long-lasting peace between the world's strongest nations: America and the Soviet Union. But as time went on, it was obvious that the two super powers could not co-exist. The Cold War had begun.

With an Iron Curtain stretching across Europe from north to south and the Berlin Wall separating Capitalist West from Communist east, both sides regarded the other with extreme caution. Each side spent untold trillions on military power, investing in both conventional and nuclear weapons. The intense conflict resulted in achievements in espionage and science. It even included a race to the moon...

But as the 1980s came to an end, the Communist State found itself in a dire dilemma. They were bankrupt and unable to stay in the arms race. The money required to maintain and upgrade the Soviet Army began to disappear and resulted in cuts along the country's civilian market. With famines running rampant, an economic depression on the rise, and Reagan's 'Star Wars' project unbalancing the delicate respect of mutual deterrence; The Soviet Politburo devised and made a radical decision. Demand help from Europe, or conquer the continent and take what they needed by force.

America and their NATO allies first viewed the threat as just another Soviet bluff, they were wrong. Political negotiations were still taking place when Russian armor began rolling through the Fulda gap in March of 1989. The Europeans were taken completely by surprise, and the Soviets were able to push halfway into the continent until NATO forces halted their attack just outside of Paris and Rome. World War III had begun.

For seven months, the war remained a stalemate until several REFORGER battalions from the United States landed in Barcelona, Spain and made a sprint to Paris. With fresh forces and more equipment and vehicles, NATO began a major counter-attack pushing the Russians back into Germany. Right before European armor and infantry began to go over the Berlin Wall, the Soviet Army pointed missiles at Western Europe's major cities which included London, Paris, Rome, and Marseilles.

With the threat of nuclear annihilation, NATO forces came to a halt.

As the events in Europe slowed, American satellites detected large amounts of activity in Eastern Russia. The entire Pacific fleet was mobilized and scrambled throughout the ocean as a response. American attention shifted to the west coast and new suspicions arose as Soviet activity continued to spike on Russia's eastern coastline.

On January of 1990, a large number of Russian fleet vessels were launched and their objectives were unknown. But satellite imagery and US naval units detected a major rise in ships traversing throughout the ocean, but the majority of the vessels were registered cargo ships. Though the ships were not a threat to the United States, it didn't relieve tensions in America.

With the increase in Red activity on the eastern coast, the Soviets renewed their attack on Europe. But unlike last time, they encountered heavy resistance and two years of fighting resulted in major losses for both sides and only a few kilometers of ground were gained.

The year is 1992, and the guns have suddenly gone quiet. Both sides wait in an unsteady patience as they wait for what the other would do next. But the Soviets had chosen a path from which they could not return and victory was their only option.


	2. Chapter 1: Invasion Day

**Chapter 1: Invasion Day**

* * *

October 5th, 1992.

Lieutenant John Anderson sat quietly at his kitchen table in his apartment deep within the Alaskan city of Anchorage. The army officer was a well-built man of 26 years with bright brown eyes and dark brown hair. Anderson took a sip from his cup of coffee and opened the day's newspaper. He was on leave, a reward for his outstanding service. World War III had already been raging in Europe for three years and Anderson had served there from 1991 to early 1992 under the command of a German-America man by the name of Fredrick Rhenall.

Although he was successful and no longer needed in the conflict, Anderson still felt that he could help in some way.

Anderson pulled his winter-fatigue coat around his body and finished off his coffee. Keys in hand, he made his way downstairs and to his car.

The sky was still dark as Alaska entered its black days of winter. It was cold and the city was very lonely as if its residents had entered a perennial hibernation. A slight snow began to fall as the day started off on a tired note.

He pulled up to a nearby café, whose owners he had known for quite some time. The place was nearly empty except for a man dressed in a business suit and the owner who was standing behind the counter, wiping it clean. Anderson felt a bit out of place, dressed in his white and gray military fatigues.

Suddenly he heard, "Ah, John! How've you been?"

The short, tubby man behind the counter called out to him, motioning him to come forward. John obliged and sat on one of the stools, "I've been good, Bob. You?"

Bob was a short, fat man with an extremely kind nature. He had short black hair and large circular glasses. Bob had his back turned to John, "Good. The usual I assume?" He asked as he began to fiddle with the ingredients and bottles on the shelves, "Are you and that Georgia dame still dating? The one you brought along with you last time?"

"Nah, unfortunately," He answered, "We broke up just before the war broke out."

"Hmm, that's disappointing..." Bob responded as he handed Anderson the cup he had prepared, "She seemed to be a very nice girl. That's the usual: vodka cosmo with and extra splash of cranberry and no lemon slice." He leaned forward on the counter, "Isn't it a bit early for that beverage, mi amigo?"

Anderson shook his head, "Nah, I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"My birthday," He said holding his cup up. He emptied the drank in one go, "Do you mind filling me up again?"

"Of course not. As long as you don't drink too much, mi amigo."

The day slowly dragged on. John said a goodbye to the kindly owner and drove home. The sun was already descending into the horizon early in the afternoon. Hanging up his coat, he made his way to the computer sitting dormant on his desk. The moment the computer came on, his phone rang. "Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Anderson slowly got up to answer it, "Hello. This is John Anderson speaking."

"Hey, John," He heard, "It's been awhile. It's Nicole, John."

Nicole Radcliffe.

Nicole was a nice 24-year-old girl from Georgia who John met in college. She had bright emerald eyes which fully complemented her dark-blonde hair. Delicately built, Nicole was a very pretty woman. She was smart, kind, and a fighter. They enjoyed a long relationship, but her opposition to him joining the army led to their break-up.

He hadn't talked to her for about two or three years, mainly because he had been serving in Germany, "Hey, Nicole. How've you been?"

"Good," She paused for a second, "I saw you on the news."

"You did?"

"Yeah, you did well, I'm proud of ya and what you did in Germany."Her tone changed from nervous to cheerful, "Where are you now?"

"I'm in Alaska, taking a break," He sat back down at the computer and brought up a French news website. The headline read, 'Soviets overrun Germany, France invaded!' "Yeah, I'm in Anchorage right now. Why?"

"Awww. I was hoping you could come visit me in Dallas." Nicole sighed, "That stinks...Quick question: Are you gonna go back to Europe and fight again?"

"Well," he began, "If they need me, I'll have to go..."

"I don't want you to go."

Nicole responded in firm tone. She was resolute and worried and was demanding him to stay home.

Anderson let out a long sigh, "I'm sorry, Nicole, but it's out of my hands."

"Can't you get stationed as national guard or something? I really don't want you to go back out."

They talked for hours, debating about John's current station on the military. Nicole arguing that he should leave the army, while John argued the opposite back. Eventually, both of them didn't know how they got to the subject, they began to talk about their former relationship. John was willing to admit that he still loved her and missed her very much, but he liked his job too. And if Nicole still loved him, he had no idea, "Nicole, what time is it?"

"Hmmm, eleven I think."

He turned to his clock, "It's eleven here, I'm asking about Dallas. What time is it over there?"

"One or two. I don't have a clock nearby."

"You should be in bed."

"I am in bed."

"Asleep."

He heard her chuckle, "I know. Goodnight, John."

"You too, Nicole."

He heard a click which indicated that she had hung up. With a sigh Anderson returned to his computer and continued to look up recent articles on the war in Europe. All said the same general idea; if the Soviets continued on the current warpath, France would be conquered in a week. In his search, Anderson ran into an article about his former commanding officer. The title said 'NATO Commander Makes Daring Attack.'

Fredrick Rhenall was always one heck of a man. It didn't surprise him that Rhenall would do something that crazy. According to it; Fredrick, along with his NATO battalions and a single German heavy tank regiment, had pushed back into Germany with minimal casualties.

There were two things that were stuck in his mind.

The first was Nicole. He hadn't seen her in years and would have loved to visit her in Dallas. If only she had called him a few days earlier. In fact, he hadn't stopped thinking about her since they had broken up. Anderson used her as an inspiration and a reason not to die in Europe, someone to come home to.

The second was the war. Anderson had worries about what the Russians were doing and how they were doing it. They were gambling. The missile incident in 1989 would definitely be mentioned again if the Russians lost, and by God they were determined not to lose.

He again wiped the sleep from his face and rose from the chair he was sitting in. He had made plans to go to the rifle range the next day and Anderson had yet prepared his rifle and pistols to do so. Dragging his gun case from underneath his bed, Anderson entered the key into its slot and unlocked it. Within it was an H&K G36 and two pistols; a SG P228 and USP Tactical. With a sigh, he began to load all three weapons magazines and was asleep by the time he finished.

When he woke up, the sun was already halfway through its orbit. Anderson trudged down the stairs, gun case in hand. The sky was mostly clear, only a few clouds dotted the open sky. Wind was nearly zero and the city buzzed with activity given the limited amount of sun they had on such a beautiful day.

Anderson had in his pocket one of those new-fangled cell phones. He figured that they were a bit pricey, but nonetheless useful. About halfway to the range, Anderson made a stop at a nearby ammunition and gun store.

It was a typically designed log cabin with hunting trophies and decorated with countless shelves of hunting rifles, military weapons, and conventional pistols. Anderson had been shopping inside this particular store before and found their inventory a bit over the edge, but that was not for him to judge.

"How can I help ya, stranger?" The old man behind the desk asked in between loud smacks of chewing tobacco.

He responded, "Do you happen to have any good deals on 5.56x45mm military rifles?"

"Hmm," The man said as he came around the corner, "I got a few AR-15s you might be interested in. What d'ya have right now?"

"A customized G36."

"G36, ay?" He said with a gritty smile, "Them's is tuffen to beat, I'll tell ya!" The man ducked underneath the counter, "If'n you'se livin under dem standards. Da only thing I can offer yous is this'n. A Steyr-Mannlicher." He took out a spiffy brand new Steyr gun case and opened it, "It's a bit pricey o'course. But it's the best I gots at the moment."

John picked it up and weighed it in his hands. After he looked down the gun sight, checked the breech and barrel, and gave the trigger a slight squeeze, Anderson said to the man, "This is a fine gun. I have to admit, thought, I've never used an AUG before."

"Are you in the military, son?"

"Yes sir, I am," John answered as he delicately placed the AUG A2 back into its case, "How do you figure?"

"The way you can handle dat gun, son. Have ya seen action yet?"

He nodded, "I served with the 42nd NATO tank division."

"The 42nd? Did you serve under Lieutenant Anderson and that man named Rhenall? They fought ha'd for Germany," The man sighed, "Too bad Germany's Red now right?" He extended his hand over the counter, "The name's Greg, Greg Hopkins."

John shook it, "Remember the man you mentioned? Lieutenant Anderson? That'd be me."

He retracted his hand instantly, "By gawd, I neva thought I'd be shakin' the hand of a legen'! I'm so pleased to me ya!" Greg looked John in the face long and hard, "By ma stars, it is you! Come to think o' it, I didn't notice yo uniform! How'd ya get all de way here in Anchorage of all places ta be!"

"I'm on leave, sir, taking a break from the war for a little while."

"I see," Greg drew his hand over the AUG, "Since you is such a fine man, and a legen' an' hero in ma book! You can take this AUG, 80% off! Ma gift ta you!"

"That's a hard offer to beat..."

"I can give it to ya fer free, but I need ta make some money offn such a goo' gun!"

Anderson laughed, "True...Very true..."

John ended up buying the AUG from the kindly old man; the price that he gave Anderson was irresistibly cheap. He chuckled at the thought of Greg. There was about an hour or two left before the sun sank beneath the horizon as Anderson pulled into the Rabbit Creek Rifle Range.

He fired his trusted Heckler & Koch first, making sure the gun still fired straight and true. After, he prepped his brand new AUG A2, the gun felt comfortably in his hands and the weapon fired as smoothly as it felt. And the weapon was already sighted perfectly.

After an hour or so, John had to reload his magazines. He sat by his car and started loading the gun bullet by bullet when his phone rang. Taking off his ear muffs he answered it, "Hello, John Anderson."

"John! Oh my God, I'm glad you answered! I called your home phone a million times!"

It was Nicole, "Wait, calm down, Nicole, what's up?"

"Are you at home? Check the news!"

"No, I'm not..." He put the gun down, "Okay, speak slowly, Nicole, and tell me what's going on."

"Alaska! John! Alaska is being invaded!"


	3. Chapter 2: Homefield Disadvantage

**Chapter 2: Home Field Disadvantage**

* * *

By now the sky was dotted with Russian planes that buzzed overhead. Soviet tanks and infantry blotted out the moon. Anderson sped through the streets as air-raid sirens howled throughout the city. The Alaskan National Guard was caught completely by surprise and they were in total disarray. And to add insult to injury, Seattle and San Diego had also been invaded. Anderson frantically searched through radio stations attempting to get some news on a resistance, when he heard the rattle of Vulcan cannons in the distance. He turned into the street where the sound was coming from.

The three anti-air Vulcans were spitting out lead in streams of short bursts. The bullets were punching holes and tearing up parachutes, causing whatever they were carrying to plunge to a quick death.

Anderson parked his car into a nearby ally and grabbed his G36 and AUG. He attached the AUG onto a small rifle holder on his back. The moment he walked out onto the street, a T-60 came around the corner. Instinctively John hit the ground and a series of explosions turned the tank into a smoldering wreck.

Two American privates helped him up as a major gunfight between Soviet and US infantry ensued. As they ran to safety, Anderson yelled over the gunfire, "Private! Who's in charge here!"

"Sergeant Carole, sir!" He responded, "But her just got evaced! Shot in the neck and incapacitated! Who, may I ask, are you, sir?"

"I'm Lieutenant John Anderson! I'm taking temporary control of your force."

"Sir, yes sir!"

Yelling over the constant buzz of the Vulcans, he yelled, "What've we got at the moment?" John fired a shot from his G36, killing a Soviet with an RPG, "I want to know what I've got available. What's your name, by the way?"

"Four M60 Pattons, a pair of Bradleys, and three Vulcans," He answered, "and I'm Conner Zdanzewicz."

Firing half a dozen shots at the Reds, Anderson said, "Well, Conner, you wanna know what I think?"

"Sir?"

"We're gonna get pinned down if we stay here!" He walked to the Pattons and Vulcans telling them his plan. Then, balancing his gun against his shoulder, Anderson motioned everyone into the Bradleys and they began to move.

Everyone sat quietly in the APC as bullets bounced off of the armor, the driver said to them, "Well, Leftenant," He was a born British, "Those ruskys are shittin' their army all over the place, ay?"

The passengers inside laughed, but were quickly silenced when the 25mm chain gun came to life. The Bradley rumbled on past the sign that read: 'Anchorage City Limit' and continued down the road.

Connor looked up at the Lieutenant and asked, "Sir, where are we headed?"

John turned to him, "Wasilla."

"Wasilla?"

"Yep."

"Is there going to be anyone there? It's an out of the way city!"

"There's going to be people there," He said reassuringly, "Trust me."

The rally point that was set if there ever was an invasion on the city was Wasilla. Although it was a small city on the outskirts of Anchorage, it was an easily defendable point and John had always been told to make for Wasilla if the need ever arose. And the need had most definitely arisen.

Anderson's gamble had worked. The majority of the Alaskan Guard stationed at Fort Richardson was rallying in the little town of Wasilla. His small group of troops was one of many disorganized platoons that had fled the Red Army in Anchorage. John was sitting on top of the Bradley's turret, his helmet hanging loosely on top of his head and the G36 resting in his lap.

Anderson hit his hand two times against the vehicle and the APC came to a slow stop. He hopped down and made his way to a group of troops busy loading tank shells for transport, "You guys know where the commanding officers are?"

One of the soldiers looked up and shrugged, "Not sure, sir, I would say the city office."

"Where would that be, if you don't mind me asking?"

He pointed west down George Parks Highway, "It's that way, sir. It's at the intersection of East Heming Avenue and North Knik Street."

The lieutenant left with a grateful smile, saluted the small squad and hopped back onto the Bradley which began to roll down the still and quiet highway.

The trooper's assumption was correct. Surrounding the city hall was a trio of M1A1 Abrams tanks in the street in front of the City office. In the center was a table which had several officers gathered around it. John jumped down from the APC and walked towards them.

The others turned to him and saluted.

"John! Never expected you to be here!"

At the head of the table was Colonel Jake Peterson. John had met him several years ago at Fort Knox during some of his army training. He never expected to see the tall, burly officer in Alaska, "Colonel, why are you in Alaska?"

"I got stationed at Richardson last year, but I heard about you! Fighting in Germany!"

John waved the thought away, "That's not important. What's our plan right now?"

Jake nodded, "You can tell me all about it later. I'm just glad we have a seasoned veteran here." He brought the lieutenant over to the map, "You see here, the Glenn Highway Bridge, we're sending the armor we have to this point." He indicated the northern side of the crossing, "They'll provide a guard detail while the 25th Infantry division plants charges along the bridge's supports. We'll destroy it which will give us enough time to retreat to Fairbanks."

"Fairbanks?" John asked, "Fairbanks is a horrible place to defend, it's in the middle of a plain! The Russians won't even need to attack the city; they'll just shells from where we can't see them."

Jake pulled the lieutenant aside, and quietly said to him, "I know, I know."

"Then why don't we head to Delta Junction and make for Whitehorse in Canada?"

""That's what I said we should do, but the Pentagon isn't too eager in losing the final frontier," the colonel sighed, "Remember, Alaska is a major producer of our oil. We need it."

"So, Washington expects us to defend an undefendable position?" John said in protest.

"Yes, for now. The President has contacted the Canadians and they're supposed to send some people our way. The first to arrive would be the 1 CMBG group from CFB Edmonton," He patted John on the back, "What about that plan, eh?"

He sighed, "Well, it should give us enough firepower to fight back; it's just the waiting that'll be a pain."

"You got that right."

As the darkness began to creep in, the few tanks that they had and the 25th infantry began to make their way to the Glenn Highway Bridge. And despite constant pleas not to go, Anderson decided to accompany the soldiers he met in Anchorage. The road was still and quiet, Anderson sat in the passenger seat of an HMMWV with his G36 cradled in his lap.

The stars were bright and it was a full moon. If it wasn't war time, Anderson would have said it was beautiful.

Surprisingly, according to a RC-135 recon plane from Eielson AFB, the Russians had stopped their pursuit at Eklutna where they had set up camp for the night.

A line of M60 Pattons and M1 Abrams tanks fortified the northern shore of the Matanuska and Knik River crossing. A dozen HMMWVs made their merry way down the bridge. Some broke away from the main group as they stopped to set their charges.

It was eerily quiet, it was discomforting. As Anderson's Humvee, the last one to place its charges at the farthest end of the bridge, stopped to prime their C4; they came under attack by Russian armor. It was a scouting party of PT-76 light tanks and BMP-2 IFVs.

Shells and high-caliber rounds screamed passed the small vehicle and Anderson yelled out loud, "Turn us around! Move!"

The car reversed and made a hard turn around to make a shot for the safe side. As craters popped around them, the U.S. armor on the other side of the crossing returned fire. A series of distant explosions perforated the southern shore. Several Soviet vehicles were destroyed.

The Russians took their fire away from the retreating HMMWV to focus on the threat across the river. The armored car twisted and weaved, chasing explosions gambling that the gunners would not fire in the same spot twice.

The night was alive with noise and bright muzzle flashes lit up the shores as U.S. and Russian forces dueled across the river.

The Americans had the advantage. Their superior armor soon had the Reds on the run.

Anderson let out a relaxed sigh. As he got out of the Humvee, he heard "Fire in the hole!" and the bridge was no more, going up in a series of large explosions.

Conner ran up to him from a nearby M60 Patton, "Sir, our plane reports that the Russians in Eklutna are on the move. We need to pull back or we'll outnumbered."

The lieutenant nodded, "Let's pack up and head out!"

With the bridge successfully destroyed, it gave the scattered U.S. defenders some breathing room. And when Anderson arrived back, they made the decision to make the long run to Fairbanks.

Leaving Wasilla took some time and the convoy was moving at a slow and steady pace. Far too slow and it was discomforting Anderson. If they didn't move faster, the Russians would be on their tail in no time...

Talkeetna was still about one hundred miles away, and at the pace they were going, it would take hours.

Anderson quietly remembered the saying 'Home field advantage.'

In their case. They had a home field disadavantage...


End file.
